I keep forgetting there even is a Monday Melee because I find I usually have other things to say. But today, I've got nothing.
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
I usually complain about the strength of the word "hate," so I'll say I dislike arrogant drivers--the ones who ride your bumper when you're going 15 miles over the speed limit in the passing lane. Back off!
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
I usually complain about this question, too, because I hesitate to accuse someone else of being a fraud. How do I know if they're a fraud or not? So, I'll point to someTHING that I think is fraudulent--clothing sizes. Why can't there be a standard for women's clothing sizes? SML doesn't seem to mean much anymore, and it's any body's guess. I would like to be able to walk into a store, read the stupid tag, and know immediately if the damn shirt will fit or not.
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
I did a little shopping yesterday, so I'm still unhappy with the lack of uniform sizing for women. I propose we move to measurement sizing or at least institute a uniform practice for all manufacturers.
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Daughter no 2 made my breakfast yesterday morning, and Daughter no 1 sent me a very cute card for Mother's Day.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
I don't know--my very short hair style is apparently cute. I keep getting compliments from random strangers.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
I wish I had more private time to practice my horn--it's feeling neglected. I can tell just by looking at the way it sits in the corner with its elbows on its knees and its chin resting dejectedly in its hands.
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
I usually complain about the strength of the word "hate," so I'll say I dislike arrogant drivers--the ones who ride your bumper when you're going 15 miles over the speed limit in the passing lane. Back off!
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
I usually complain about this question, too, because I hesitate to accuse someone else of being a fraud. How do I know if they're a fraud or not? So, I'll point to someTHING that I think is fraudulent--clothing sizes. Why can't there be a standard for women's clothing sizes? SML doesn't seem to mean much anymore, and it's any body's guess. I would like to be able to walk into a store, read the stupid tag, and know immediately if the damn shirt will fit or not.
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
I did a little shopping yesterday, so I'm still unhappy with the lack of uniform sizing for women. I propose we move to measurement sizing or at least institute a uniform practice for all manufacturers.
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Daughter no 2 made my breakfast yesterday morning, and Daughter no 1 sent me a very cute card for Mother's Day.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
I don't know--my very short hair style is apparently cute. I keep getting compliments from random strangers.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
I wish I had more private time to practice my horn--it's feeling neglected. I can tell just by looking at the way it sits in the corner with its elbows on its knees and its chin resting dejectedly in its hands.
Comments
And I think you should grow your hair; you're too cute with it short.
Compliments from random strangers is always good! - well, suppose what they're like really... dodgy isn't good!
Since all the clothes we buy now come from so many parts of the world the sizes vary so much. When clothes were made in the USA I think it was more standard. At least for Ameicans.
I have the same problem and tried to resolve it by saying I haven't been fitted for a bra in so long maybe i am bigger than what i think. (bra fitting is still a scary traumatic excercise) and so off i went to the old lady with the tape measure. After the verdict i sat in the fitting room and cried realsing that I'm never going to find a shirt that fits anywhere ever again. hello floppy sleeves and toones of un-needed waist room.
Kisses!